To Drabble a Musketeer
by Zuzivlas
Summary: A collection of standalone drabbles about the musketeers and other characters both from the movies and the books. Non slash  for now at least :P  with various themes and styles.
1. Chapter 1

_A/N What can I say, I felt like writing drabbles :P Each one of these is exactly 100 words and they involve our favourite musketeers, Treville, Milady, Constance, Planchet, Raoul and small mentions of Anne, Louis, Grimaud and Richelieu. Do let me know if you think I should write more of them, or if you would like to read one about somebody else._

_Enjoy!_

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><p>Sometimes, Treville wondered if fate had a cruel sense of humour. His mother had always hoped for a girl that would one day take her place as a midwife and help take care of the local children. Treville was definitely not a woman let alone midwife but as the captain of the musketeers, he often felt like one. Most of his days were spent scolding his musketeers for their mischief, having to clean up the mess they had caused before the King and Cardinal or worrying about their health as they had gotten injured yet again. Wicked sense of humour.<p>

XXX

D'Artagnan had left his parents back in Gascony but he found his true family in the musketeers. Athos was as much of a father as he could be, a role model, a protector, always willing to guide him to avoid the traps he himself had fallen into. Aramis varied between a mother figure when he was injured and an older brother helping and guiding him in all Athos forbid when he wasn't looking. Porthos was like an uncle, proud of D'Artagnan when he scored with women, loud and friendly and always getting him out of trouble with the other two.

XXX

Occasionally, even she couldn't believe just how gullible men were. All it took was a pretty face and golden hair, a secret smile, a touch of a soft hand, the guise of innocence in her eyes and voice and they practically fell over themselves to do whatever she asked of them. It was so easy to use it against them, to reach her goals. Not even Richelieu was immune to her powers, much as he thought he held the upper hand since she needed him. Milady knew the truth though; he was a man, a weakling, so easy to use.

XXX

Planchet never quite understood the upside-down logic of his masters when it came to injuries and illnesses; he was slowly starting to see why his aunt always shook her head exasperatedly at her male patients. Shoot them, stab them, poison them, torture them and the musketeers will try to run away from the bed the very moment nobody is looking only to collapse later. But if any of them caught a trivial cold, they moaned and demanded sympathy for their utter misery, refusing to do anything but rest in bed moaning pitifully, claiming that death was near. It was confusing.

XXX

Aramis was standing before a dilemma he wasn't quite sure how to solve. Last night had been spectacular, an evening to remember as the musketeers celebrated their latest triumph over Richelieu and Aramis had the pleasure of spending it in the company of several ladies. Unfortunately, he was a bit hazy on certain details and holding three perfumed handkerchiefs, couldn't for the life of him remember which belonged to whom. He had managed to narrow it down to about five candidates before he got stuck. Oh how to solve this to appease all and not get killed by scorned women?

XXX

Treville realized that he had been giving his musketeers far too many missions involving dressing up as women lately when he had announced another one, presenting them with the clothes of the latest male fashion and they looked at the garments puzzled, unable to figure out how to put them on. They struggled until Porthos joined them, his eyes lighting up like a child's and showed them how to dress, looking as if he'd arrived in heaven as he put his own garish model on. Finally dressed, Aramis and D'Artagnan eyed the clashing colours and began mourning after the corsets.

XXX

When they were young, they didn't think they could ever die, no matter the danger they put themselves into for King and Queen and France. Years later, they were far more aware of the possibility of death but even when they said goodbyes as if they would never see each other again, they still believed that against all odds they could pull through. It mattered little what ended their lives eventually, illness, dagger, old age or poison. They were together again, the inseparables, even in death. Grimaud wiped away the tear for the fallen heroes from his old stoic face.

XXX

Sometimes, Athos pondered the special connection between Aramis and Porthos. When somebody pushed Athos or D'Artagnan, Porthos would come help them; when the same person pushed Aramis, they found themselves on the floor with their head split open. When Athos or D'Artagnan didn't understand what Aramis was saying, he shook his head exasperatedly; when it was Porthos, he explained it again calmly using simpler words. When needing help, they always went to the other first, when going out they preferred each other's company. For all of their verbal and physical fights, they were true friends most people only wished for.

XXX

Constance blushed prettily as Anne gave her a knowing look and released her from duty for the rest of the afternoon. The musketeers had returned from a longer mission an hour ago and it was clear to everybody that the young lady in waiting wanted to check up on her dearest D'Artagnan and hopefully spend some time with him. On the other side of the palace, Louis smirked at the antsy youth kneeling opposite him and gave him the permission to leave since the others could finish the report themselves. Oh young love, how sweet it is to those involved.

XXX

Twenty years had passed and none of them changed as much as Athos. D'Artagnan was more jaded, Aramis slightly less refined, Porthos wealthy, but deep down they were still the same. On the other hand Athos, the drunkard, the loner, the definition of melancholy, had lost the taste for wine and found the taste for life. The boy that adored him had taken all those years off of him. Stern but caring, he looked at young Raoul with affection, wanting to protect him from the world but knowing he would have to let him go soon. The cycle of life.


	2. Chapter 2

_Thanks so much to everybody who commented last time, it's greatly appreciated! Since the general consensus was for me to write more, I gave it a shot today. Because there were two requests to see what happened to Aramis after he couldn't figure out the handkerchiefs last time, I wrote a follow up, hope it meets your expectations! :P_

_Main characters include our beloved musketeers, Felton, Buckingham, Richelieu, Mordaunt and Treville with a small mention of Raoul and Milady._

_Enjoy!_

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><p>His heart beating wildly, Aramis slammed the door behind him, bolting it with frantic fingers; he was panting heavily and his eyes darted left and right. His friends watched with curiosity as he ran into the kitchen and grabbed the heavy table, pulling it back to the door. Only once he was sure nobody would manage to get inside did he rest against the barricade. D'Artagnan and Porthos laughed at the priest in torn clothes and the myriad of scratches covering his body.<p>

"You got attacked by a tiger?"

"Worse, women."

"I knew they would be your death one day."

XXX

Such a fool for trusting her. Why didn't he listen to his Lord when he warned him about that vile creature? Why did he allow his own passion for his faith to cloud his mind, his judgement? He had been too aware of her womanly advances but she used against him his only true weakness. He had killed Buckingham, that spawn of devil, for her and for the rest of the Puritans, only to see that she had a different agenda. Now when he was caught and about to be executed as she left him behind, he realized his error.

XXX

D'Artagnan was positive that his eyes would never see the same as he was blinded by the abysmal colour scheme of Porthos' new clothes; he had never seen so many bright colours together in one place. But there his friend stood, in all of his orange, green, pink, purple, blue, red and yellow glory. And those were just the pants; the jacket and the goblet were absolutely hideous. Aramis and Athos weren't doing any better since the former shrieked when he looked up from his Bible and the latter choked on his wine. Unanimously, they swore to kill the tailor.

XXX

Buckingham had a new hobby. As much as it was enjoyable to make fun of Louis or Richelieu when he knew that nobody could touch him, it was much more fun to taunt the musketeers. He couldn't let the opportunity to ridicule them slide as he saw them kneeling when he passed by. Athos raised those oh so expressive eyes at him in defiance, promising retribution the first moment he and his fellow musketeers got a chance but Buckingham didn't think much of it. He was rich, he was powerful, and he was the King's favourite. Nobody could touch him.

XXX

Several years ago, Aramis and Porthos had chosen a random day and dubbed it Women Appreciation Day. It didn't matter what they were supposed to do, they always made sure that nothing could stop them from following the tradition. On that day every year, they took special care to spend extra time with their lovers, mistresses and any other willing women, doing everything for the ladies without getting anything back for themselves. Of course they would reap the rewards during the next few months but on that day, every woman had a bright satisfied smile on her slightly flushed face.

XXX

During his life, Richelieu had earned many nicknames among his followers and enemies and now when he felt the end coming closer, he wondered what kind of legacy he was leaving behind. Would they remember him as a tyrant who didn't mind getting rid of his opponents sneakily as his spies revealed what his next target was doing? Or would they remember a strong man who did his best to be a leader when their own King didn't measure up to the task? A cunning man or a coward? A strong personality or a whimsical cardinal? He would never know.

XXX

His hard years as a soldier taught D'Artagnan to suppress nostalgia and strong emotions but even the veteran musketeer couldn't help the feelings in his chest and belly when he watched his friends with Raoul. Aramis and Porthos were taking turns sparring with him, each one presenting an opponent with a very different set of skills and weaknesses, all the while giving the boy hints on how to improve. Athos was observing it all with the sharp eye of a parent, adding his own knowledge while making sure they didn't hurt his boy. Immediately, D'Artagnan was transported back in time.

XXX

He would get them, if it was the last thing he did. They had taken everything from him, his birthright, his name, his inheritance, his mother. He didn't care why, didn't care for what she might have done to meet such an end. He wanted revenge, satisfaction. He had killed the executioner, his uncle and he even managed to kill the King without any blame. He was so close, only the four left. The four that had crowned themselves jury and set everything into motion. He hated them, despised them. He wouldn't stop before he spat on their dead bodies.

XXX

Sometimes, Athos wondered why Aramis and Porthos bothered with him. He was hardly pleasant company as he drank his troubles away, preferring peace and quiet over their loud joie de vivre, despising women that they so loved. His coldness could be interpreted as animosity, his persona able to crush any joyous evening.

And yet, they wouldn't leave him. They would get exasperated with him sure, but they never left. Aramis once explained that they knew better. That they knew that below the mask of pain and melancholy, he was a loyal, caring and attentive friend they could always count on.

XXX

Two weeks without anything going wrong, Treville was feeling like a rejuvenated man. It was as close to a vacation as he had had in the last few years and he enjoyed every minute of it. But with each passing day, he knew this paradise was getting closer and closer to an end. The Inseparables would return to Paris soon and with them, the number of musketeers and Cardinal guards' fights would rise, the injuries count of his men would triple and every other day there would be a new emergency demanding his attention. It was nice while it lasted.


	3. Chapter 3

_A/N Since I'm struggling with the next chapter of my Lost series, I thought I'd at least write some drabbles :P_

_Main characters besides the beloved quartet include King Charles I., Raoul, Rochefort, Kitty, and Constance with an honourable mention of Madame de Chevreuse._

_Enjoy!_

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><p>He felt honoured to have known them, considered them friends... the four men that tried to save him against all odds and almost succeeded. They had been so close on the battlefield, so close in Thirsk, incredibly close in London. Fate was against him unfortunately, and there was no escaping what had to happen. He died happy though, knowing that he wasn't alone. Comte de La Fère and knight d'Herblay were next to him until the bitter end. His last words went to the Comte, giving him one last mission since this one was over. He knew he'd fill it.<p>

XXX

Raoul often wondered who his real parents were though deep down, he wasn't sure if he really wanted to meet them. He doubted he could love anyone as a father more than his Comte, the man who had been his greatest example, his greatest teacher. Many a night when he was younger did he wish for him to be his actual father, occasionally dreaming of the moment his Comte revealed the truth. With time, he realized that it didn't matter. Blood went only so far, what truly mattered was the affection he felt for the man who had raised him.

XXX

He felt like his whole life fell apart as he held her tightly, unwilling to acknowledge that his beautiful Madame Bonacieux was dead, murdered in cold blood by the woman that haunted his every step. His heart had stopped beating as tears ran down his face, falling onto the unmoving lips of his love. He wasn't sure he would ever feel again as the future he had carefully crafted in his head shattered to pieces. It didn't matter anymore, nothing did. His beloved Constance was dead and he had nothing left to live for except perhaps revenge. Goodbye my love.

XXX

Porthos had jumped out of his bed and ran to Aramis' room the moment he heard the scream that had woken him. He met D'Artagnan and Athos by the threshold, both holding a dagger in case their friend had been attacked by intruders. When they burst into the room, they found Aramis standing on the desk, his books and papers strewn all around the room. He was brandishing a particularly heavy book and glaring at the floor. Looking down, the three noticed a fairly big spider. Laughing, they threw him out the window and memorized every detail for future blackmail.

XXX

It was times like these when Porthos felt quite stupid compared to his friends. They were in trouble trying to run away from their enemies and all it took them was a look or two and magically, all three knew exactly what had to be done and how. Porthos just regarded them with confusion and cursed himself internally for not being able to keep up. They would explain the plan to him if they had a chance of course but it was embarrassing that they even had to. He wished he could be the brains of the group just once.

XXX

After 2 months with the musketeers, D'Artagnan thought there was nothing left that they could use to make fun of him anymore; how wrong he had been. They, ok, mostly Porthos, never meant it in a mean way but at times it could grate on D'Artagnan's last nerve. The day Porthos decided to analyze the fact that the young Gascon didn't have a carefully cultured moustache or beard was horrible. At every turn, there was Porthos twirling his own, remarking that D'Artagnan needs to grow one himself. It wasn't his fault that he just couldn't grow a respectable one yet.

XXX

Being imprisoned gives a man plenty of time to think, Rochefort knew. Oh how different was this life compared to his previous one...

Back when he was Richelieu's spy, he had lived the good life as the Cardinal could be generous to those who served him well. Then D'Artagnan joined the picture and despite the initial animosity, they had gotten closer every time the young man defeated him. Now however, a new Cardinal rose to power and made sure to get rid of anyone who could potentially be dangerous to him, making the two friends stand on opposite sides again.

XXX

The moment she had seen him, she felt her heart flutter and a tingling in her belly that made it hard to breathe. He came to see Lady de Winter but secretly, she hoped to get to see him again. Her prayers had been answered as the handsome Gascon became a daily visitor. She had found the courage to tell him about her feelings but couldn't help but fear that his claim of loving her back was only a play. Deep down, she knew that he was lying but the hope of a young girl's heart cannot be destroyed easily.

XXX

Athos wasn't so sure what to tell his friend when he invited him for a visit to meet young Raoul. He felt conflicted inside as he didn't want to lie to Aramis but on the other hand, it would be shocking enough to admit that Raoul was actually his own son without revealing the mother. How would Aramis react when told that his mistress, Madame de Chevreuse, had slept with his friend and gotten pregnant? How would he react to the news that Athos wasn't as opposed to women anymore and spent a night with someone he knew Aramis loved?

XXX

It had been a hard day's ride and since they would have to camp outside instead of sleeping in an inn, there wouldn't be anyone to find their behaviour scandalous. Well, maybe Athos, but he didn't count. Besides, it would be nice to get rid of the grime and improve their smell drastically.

D'Artagnan wasn't so sure about going for the swim in the pond completely naked but Aramis and Porthos had thrown off their clothes unabashedly and he didn't want to stay behind. Porthos was unwilling to wait for him any longer and splashed him heavily. This meant war!


End file.
